


Deep Shadows and Brilliant Highlights

by Kerkerian



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief, MacRiley in the making (if you squint), Suicidal Thoughts, Team as Family, Whumptober 2020, breakdown - Freeform, divergence from canon, emotional mac whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: Whumptober 2020 prompts days 11 and 12: "Psych 101 (Defiance/Struggling/Crying)" and "I Think I've Broken Something (Broken Down/Broken Bones/Broken Trust)".After the death of his dad, Mac gets to a point where he just can't cope any longer.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952242
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Deep Shadows and Brilliant Highlights

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, I don't own MacGyver.
> 
> The title is borrowed from the album of the same name by HIM.

The house is dark when Riley comes home late. She's been having dinner with her mom, which did her bruised soul a lot of good but simultaneously made her feel guilty. It's Mac who just lost his dad after all and on top of everything else, and she feels that she should be there for him. On the other hand, it's what the entire team is trying to do, but so far, Mac has pushed them all away, even Desi.

During the days, his face is rigid, he only speaks when he has to, and his body is tense all the time, like a coil wound up tightly. Riley can't even remember when she last saw him touch a paperclip.

At night, he stays in the lab long after the others have left (if only after trying to get him to spend some time in their company). He won't, though, he's got a list of reasons why he's got to do whatever it is he's doing at the time, and politely reclines every single suggestion, whether it's a beer on his deck or a movie night at Bozer's.

Riley knows what he's doing: he won't accept any comfort or allow unnecessary distractions, punishing himself that way because he's feeling guilty, as ill-founded as it is. It's a dark path, and it's hard on him. They all try to get Mac to eat and rest in between, but he looks haggard and worn: it's like he's reached the end of his tether and still forces himself further. It's unhealthy too, but Riley also knows that no one can make him stop unless he wants it too.

She closes the front door behind herself and listens: Mac's car is on the drive, so he's home and, hopefully, asleep.

She turns on the light, hangs up her jacket and goes to look in the fridge for some milk: her mom made samosas which were delicious but really spicy. She turns to put the carton on the kitchen island and stops dead in her tracks when her eyes fall on a lump on the floor, between the kitchen and the living room. For a moment, she just stares: it's Mac. He's curled up tightly with his back towards her, and she can see that his shoulders are shaking. Hell, his entire body is.

Unthinkingly, Riley drops down next to him: “Mac,” she says gently, helplessly, putting a hesitant hand on his arm. He doesn't react: he's crying, and she doesn't know what's worse: that he's not producing any sound, or that he doesn't acknowledge her presence.

“Mac,” she repeats, “hey? Do you hear me?” Her hand wanders down to his chest while her other runs over his hair. What if he's hurt? What if this isn't what it looks like? She can't see any injuries, however, and there's no blood.

Biting her lip, she crouches down so that she can slide one arm beneath his neck and hug him, no matter how awkward the position may be, pull him towards her own body to provide comfort and warmth: his skin his icy.

“Do you hear me, honey?” he says again, close to Mac's ear, and after a moment, he draws a shuddering breath and nods, his eyes still closed, tears leaking out unchecked. So it is what it looks like. Riley feels her own eyes tearing up as well.

“I've got you,” she murmurs, lowering herself to the ground behind him and reinforcing her grip. “It's alright.” And now she can hear Mac's sobs, desperate, breathless little sounds he didn't make before: she knows how it feels not to want anyone to hear you, how one can learn to cry quietly, but this is breaking her heart nevertheless.

Through their clothes, she feels Mac's shoulder blades, his ribs, and that is making him too fragile in her arms, too vulnerable. Whatever she herself went through in her life, his was so much worse. And now this. He can't catch a break and is still trying to do the right thing and be brave, he doesn't deserve this. No one does.

Riley holds him until he eventually stills. Her body's begun to protest the hunched position she's in by the time Mac stops crying, but she doesn't heed it.

Mac's just lying there now, trembling and silent. She'd think he was asleep, but she can see his face and that he is blinking occasionally. It's worrying, this lack of response, and she suspects that he just wore himself out, that he's not actually done. And that's understandable but also worrying her even more. She's never seen Mac lose control like this. It came close, a few times, but never like this. And she wasn't alone with him either.

For a moment, she wishes for Jack to be there so intensely that she feels a pang. He's not though, and neither is anyone else. It's all on her now, and she has no idea if she's doing it right; she'll just have to rely on her guts.

Her right hand is still resting on Mac's sternum, so she gently begins to move her thumb, stroking Mac ever so gently, and waits.

“Sorry,” Mac eventually mutters, his voice toneless and barely audible.

“What for?” Riley rests her chin on his shoulder.

“You shouldn't've seen this.” He sounds exhausted, his voice is brittle. “Shouldn't've to deal with me losing it.” His tone is self-deprecating.

“Stop being so hard on yourself, okay?” Riley replies. “You're entitled to grieve.”

Mac grimaces: “Yeah, right.”

“Mac,” Riley says with emphasis. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Debatable.”

“It's not.” Riley's answer is quiet. “I know what you're thinking, but you can't just look at the past year, Mac. Look at the past twenty years.”

Mac closes his eyes at that, feeling fresh tears welling up. He knows that Riley has a point, but he can't but feel guilty nevertheless. He should have talked to his dad instead of cutting him off like that. Which isn't the only reason he feels as wretched as he does right now, however.

He's been pondering his family, his aunt, his dad these past weeks; it haunted him into his sleep, if he slept at all. He just doesn't understand what went wrong.

When he came home the other day, he put the box with his dad's stuff on the kitchen island and looked through it, for the first time properly looked since the memorial service, and found a small picture of James and himself as a baby wedged in a corner. In it, his father is beaming at the camera, obviously near to bursting with pride, and the photo is another thing that keeps haunting him. Nothing of this adds up, and once more, he's been asking himself what he did wrong between the moment the picture was taken and the day his dad left.

Which is the same question Mac's been wondering about ever since his dad left, but the picture only seemed to prove that he actually is the one to blame, not James. He's been hearing his dad's voice in his mind all day, telling him that he, Mac, made it clear he wanted nothing to do with his father recently, which is why the latter kept his distance and didn't call either.

In hindsight, it therefore must have been like that as well when his dad first left. He must have given the impression, somehow, that he didn't _want_ James to return. This notion has been plaguing Mac to the point where he simply couldn't handle it any longer. It is only logical, though; in fact, he should have realized it sooner.

When he came home earlier, he intended to look at the picture once more, but he didn't even make it over to the box because at one point, his legs just folded underneath him, and he crumpled to the ground, weighed down by his sorrow and unable to keep his tears at bay.

And now he feels too weary to even move, and ashamed about his weakness. But Riley doesn't seem to mind. She keeps holding him, warming him, and he realizes that this is what he needs, now that he can't be strong. But what good is he now that he's lost the one thing that's kept him going all these years? Or maybe _strength_ isn't even the right word, maybe it's just been bravado, born out of insecurity?

“Wanna get up off the floor?” Riley eventually asks in a low voice. Mac doesn't; he thinks he should just lie there and give up. Despite his big brain, he can't seem figure out the important things in life, after all, so he might as well just let go. He's far below the average weight for his age and size already, it can't be too difficult to starve himself to death, can it?

“I'm useless,” he mutters. “Just leave me.”

But Riley's insistent. With a lot of coaxing, she gets Mac to his feet. He's shaking by the time he's upright, and she realizes that she hasn't seen him eat or drink anything all day. He doesn't look like he's been sleeping either, and she half-fears that he might collapse on her, but somehow, they make it to his bedroom, where she eases him onto the mattress.

“You're not useless,” she says, tears in her eyes, because this is frightening her.

Mac manages to roll away from her, curling up again. Riley surrounds the bed, trying to get him to face her: “Mac!”

He closes his eyes. “I'm sorry.” His voice is a mere breath. “Please, leave me.”

“No, I won't. You're scaring me.”

“Sorry,” he repeats. “I can't.”

“You can't what?”

Mac doesn't answer any more.

Riley nudges him: “Mac, talk to me!”

He opens his eyes, slowly, and just looks at her.

“I'm not leaving you,” Riley says, loudly. “Please, Mac, don't be like this.”

“Sorry,” Mac closes his eyes again. “'s too much.”

“What is?”

“All of it.”

Riley crouches down in front of him, stroking his hair: “I understand that you're not doing too well right now,” she says in a lower tone. “But you're not alone, Mac. You got me, and the others.” _Jack_ , she thinks with another pang. He'd know what to do.

“I can't,” Mac just mutters once more.

“Yes, you can, because I won't let you just... give up.”

Riley stays with him for a few minutes, but Mac doesn't react any more; maybe he's fallen asleep, maybe he's ignoring her. He still feels cold, and he looks utterly forlorn, even like that. She can't just leave him, and since she doesn't know what to do, she'll have to get help.

Riley gets to her feet and leaves the room. In the kitchen, she calls Bozer. It takes a while until he picks up and he sounds drowsy when he does, as if he's just woken up, but Riley doesn't even take the time to apologize, just tells him what has happened.

“I'll be right there,” Bozer says once she's finished, and that's immensely reassuring. After they ended the call, Riley returns to Mac's room with a blanket which she spreads over him; it doesn't garner a reaction either, and at first she thinks he's actually fallen asleep, but then she sees that he's crying again, and it's making her heart constrict.

So she kicks off her boots and crawls under the blanket with him, wrapping her arm around him and just nestling up against his back; she's glad that he lets her, but he doesn't make any attempt to move closer to her either, despite the fact that he's shivering. Riley therefore just holds him, hurting on his behalf, and hopes that they'll be able to help him.

It takes Bozer half an hour to get to Mac's place. He lets himself into the house with the emergency key he still has (and which he insisted on) and goes straight to Mac's bedroom. It is dimly lit by the neon sign on the wall, and when he comes in, Riley lifts her head: “Hey,” she says softly, and Bozer can tell how much all of this is getting to her.

Mac doesn't acknowledge his presence, but when Bozer approaches the bed, he can see that his friend's face is wet from tears, even though his eyes are closed and he could be sleeping from the looks of it. Bozer glances from him to Riley, who just shakes her head, so he slips out of his shoes too and lies down on Mac's other side, facing him. Riley lifts up the blanket and throws it over to Bozer, and he gladly pulls it over himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Bozer says softly, “haven't slept in the same bed since high school, huh?”

Riley smiles sadly to herself; Bozer has told her about the few occasions during which Mac just needed someone close by, and how Bozer always stepped up. “He's my little brother,” he said. “'Course I let him crawl in with me. He just needed to hear me breathing sometimes, or I told him stories until he fell asleep.”

Right now however, Bozer doesn't feel like talking. He's known Mac a long time, and worrying about him is his default setting. Seeing him so desolate and off kilter is alarming, and even though he has been at Mac's side during a lot of tough shit, it's never been like this.

So he just fumbles around for Mac's hand under the blanket and grabs it tightly once he's found it, regarding him until his own eyes fall close. It takes Riley a bit longer to doze off, but she does once Mac's stopped crying. Bozer's presence seems to have a calming effect indeed, and she's just grateful for that.

On the following morning, Mac wakes up first. He's warm, but he's got a headache, and his right shoulder, which is the one he's lying on, is making itself known uncomfortably, telling him he hasn't moved much in the night. His eyes feel gritty, and when he pries them open, he finds Bozer next to him, fast asleep.

It has been real, then. He doesn't know whether he should feel disappointed or relieved.

Now the warm weight on his back begins to move, and a moment later, the mattress shakes a little as Riley gets to her feet and disappears in the bathroom. Mac turns onto his back. Did he really want to die last night? Now, in the first light of a new morning, it seems surreal, no matter how bleak things are right now.

He meets Riley's gaze when she comes back, and she seems hesitant as she sits on the edge of the bed: “Morning,” she says softly.

Mac regards her: “Hey,” he mutters.

Riley's expression softens; she's ever so glad that he's talking to her. It's more than she dared to expect. “You feeling better?”

Mac ponders this: “I dunno,” he says truthfully. “I don't think it works that way. Go to sleep and in the morning, everything's alright.”

“No, 'course not.” Riley's gaze wanders over his exhausted face. “I meant... You were in a really bad place last night.”

“Yeah.” Mac averts his gaze. “In that regard, I'm feeling better.”

“Okay.” She seems relieved.

“I'm sorry,” Mac now mutters, “I didn't meant to scare you.”

Next to him, Bozer stirs, sparing Riley an answer.

Yawning, he stretches before opening his eyes. Then, blinking, he sits up: “Mornin',” he says, almost warily, looking from Mac to Riley and back.

“Morning,” Mac answers, also sitting up. “Thanks for coming over, Boze.” He seems abashed: “I was... I dunno.”

Bozer shakes his head fondly, clearly also relieved: “Totally off your rocker, you mean? Yeah, I figured that.”

Mac wraps his arms around himself, which only emphasizes how thin he is, and nods.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Riley's heart aches because he keeps apologizing for something he didn't really have any control over. Surreptitiously, she sneaks her hand into his and squeezes it. Mac looks surprised, but not unpleasantly so.

Bozer regards his friend's pale face and wishes, probably for the hundredth time, that he could make things easier for him. “Nothing to be sorry for, man,” he says softly. “But we need to do something about the situation. You can't go on like this.”

Mac averts his gaze once more: “Yeah,” he then mumbles. “You're right.”

“So... lets make a battle plan,” Bozer suggests. “You're not going to work today, and Riles and I ain't going either. Instead, we'll find you someone to talk to. And we're gonna have a decent breakfast too. And if we still got some time later, we'll go to the beach, get some air. Maybe throw some stones.”

“What about Codex?” Mac can't help but ask.

“I've fed the new search parameters into the Phoenix servers last night,” Riley says. “I can easily manage from here if need be.”

Mac seems reassured by that. “Yeah,” he then says. “Okay.”

The truth is that he doesn't think he can face going into the War Room today, dealing with everybody and the fact that they haven't gotten any closer to Codex yet. He doesn't think he can handle the disappointment and the nagging feeling of unease that's been making his skin crawl whenever they hit another dead end. Right now, he doesn't even feel like leaving his bedroom.

“Let's start one step at a time,” Riley says, as if she's read his mind. “Breakfast sounds good.”

Bozer gets up: “I'll go for a Bagel run. Gotta wash up first, though. Mind if I use your stuff, Mac?”

“'Course not.”

After Bozer's disappeared in the bathroom, Riley gets up again as well: “I'll make some coffee.”

Mac stays where he is, sitting on his bed. He's still got a headache, and he feels shaken, as if he's just weathered a storm, unsure whether he should open the door and look outside because he doesn't know what he's going to find.

He knows that Bozer's right though: he can't go on like this, he needs help. He should already have gotten help before Russ reinvented the Phoenix, if he's completely honest with himself. This is different, but it comes from the same dark pit deep within his soul he's been ignoring for too long now.

With slow movements, he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets off the bed. He slides his shirt over his head and throws it into the hamper, then takes a fresh henley out of a drawer and puts that on.

After a moment of consideration, he rummages around in another drawer until he finds a worn but cosy Metallica hoodie which he pulls over his head. It's not his, and for a moment, Mac doesn't move at all, just takes in the faint, lingering scent that's so unmistakably, uniquely Jack; it feels like an embrace.

Slowly, he pulls the jumper all the way down. His eyes prickle, but at the same time, it's strangely comforting. Jack has given him so much love, has made him feel like someone worth spending time with, just like Bozer has done before. They made up for a lot that was missing in his life, and even now that Jack is away, Mac still isn't alone.

Riley tips the freshly ground coffee into the percolator, glad to have a task that doesn't require much attention but is keeping her hands occupied. She really hopes that Mac is going to be alright, because last night was horrible. There's a fine line between genius and madness, isn't that a saying? She was afraid that they'd actually lose Mac, that everything that happened lately had finally been too much for him. And she feels guilty for all the time they didn't speak, during the Phoenix's hiatus.

It turned out that none of them kept in touch with Mac on a regular basis after he and Desi had broken up, and in hindsight, she really doesn't understand what happened there. But she's afraid that that's when it started, this downward spiral, even if he seemed to be doing fine once the Phoenix was reopened. That they all let themselves be fooled. They should have known when Mac jumped into the tank at the water treatment plant, ready to sacrifice himself once again. As if his life was of no importance.

She shakes her head: from now on, she'll be there for Mac, no matter what. She doesn't know what exactly is going on between Desi and him, but from what she's seen so far, it doesn't seem good. They are working well enough together, but Riley doesn't think there's a palpable spark between them, and a small but insistent part of her mind is inappropriately happy about that.

She grimaces: so what if she feels drawn to Mac? They've got a lot in common, after all. At the moment though, it doesn't matter. His mental and physical health should be her first priority.

As if on cue, Mac comes padding around the corner. He's wearing one of Jack's pullovers, which is at least one size too big and she hasn't seen on him before, and his hair is still tousled. Riley's heart goes out to him. Before she can say anything, Mac comes up to her and wraps his arms around her, and with him, there's a hint of Jack. Riley closes her eyes and wraps her own arms around Mac, and for a long while, they just hold on to one another tightly.

“Thank you,” Mac mutters once they've let go, and the smallest of smiles is momentarily playing around the corners of his mouth. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Riley wipes her eyes: “I love you too,” she says, sounding choked. “And I'm so sorry we lost touch when the Phoenix was shut down.”

Mac looks a little surprised: “You're here now,” he says after a moment. “I'm sorry if I'm making this hard on you all.” His voice is still brittle. “I'm... I really appreciate your help. I just want you to know that.”

“Didn't I tell you to stop apologizing?” Riley smiles, despite her tears.

“Yeah.” Mac reaches up to cup her cheek. “Sorry.”

“Don't think I won't punch you!”

When Bozer comes into the kitchen a few minutes later, Mac and Riley are sitting at the kitchen island, Riley's rig opened in front of them, and browsing for psychiatrists. Which is the first step in the right direction, and Bozer is almost surprised that it's already happening. Then again, this is Mac, who's the bravest person Bozer has ever met, best foot forward and all that, no matter how hard it's going to be.

Touched, Bozer looks over Mac's shoulder: “Any particular Bagel fancies?”

“Surprise us,” Riley says.

“'kay.” Bozer turns to go, but then he stops, wraps Mac in a one-armed hug and presses a kiss on the top of his head: “Proud of you, kid,” he says with a tight voice, and is gone before either Mac or Riley had a chance to comprehend what just happened. Mac just sits there blinking for a moment, but then there's that faint smile again, and Riley hides one of her own: Bozer doesn't often show it, but yeah, Mac's his little brother alright.

That night, Riley, Bozer and Mac watch a movie together in his living room. They've been to the beach and had some take-out later, and, most importantly, Mac's made an appointment with a psychiatrist. He's exhausted now, but in a good way, and he's glad that things are moving into the right direction, with the help of his logical family.

Bozer also told him, earlier that afternoon, that he was sorry for not keeping in touch during the Phoenix hiatus. “I was too caught up in my movie,” he said, sounding apologetic. “Being all pompous. Seriously, Mac, I didn't think that would happen, and I'm... I'm ashamed of myself that it did.”

Mac shook his head at that: “I didn't call you that often either.”

“Still. I'm the eldest. I'm supposed to set a good example.” At that, Bozer only barely managed to keep a straight face.

Mac shoved him: “Who's a pompous ass now?”

“I didn't say _ass_...”

And now Mac is leaning against Bozer and his feet are in Riley's lap, and it's peaceful. He's calmer now, and even though his issues are still there, they weigh less heavily on him because he's not alone, has people who are willing to share his burden. Who don't think he should have to deal with everything on his own. Who know that he'll have more bad days, that things won't be resolved in a fortnight, and still don't think any less of him.

He hasn't felt this grounded in a really long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm not a Native Speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes. Feedback appreciated, though this fandom seems to consist mainly of lurkers...


End file.
